Passages from Flashback

 

Back home in the Low Country

Nate drove north on Route 21 toward Charleston. Despite lack of sleep, he looked forward to the next hour on the road. As he crossed the Whale Branch Bridge, the evening sun cast light on the Spartina grass, giving it a golden glow.

        The coastal area of South Carolina, known as the Low Country, was named for the topography. The region was flat and much of it was wetland that gently melds into the sea. Marshes, tidal basins, and estuaries flowed eastward toward the sounds that separate the barrier islands from the mainland. During spring and summer, the grayish-green water teemed with life. As winter approached and the weather cooled, the microscopic animal life receded, and the water became a jewel-toned blue until the following spring when new fauna emerged. The dolphins that inhabited the local waters depended on the cycle. So did the men who eked out a living with their shrimp trawlers. Thirty years of steady development had taken a toll on the natural ebb and flow of the Low Country, and Nate wondered how long the cycle could last.

 

        Nate Dunlevy struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder

Three hours later, he woke suddenly to a deafening blast and a flash of blinding light. Covered in sweat, he bolted upright in bed and looked around the room. Realizing he was home, his heart rate slowed. Once again, the shock that woke him was only in his mind.

        Nate groped his way through blackness and into the bathroom. Flicking the wall switch caused him to squint hard in the bright light. After splashing cold water on his face, he searched the medicine cabinet for aspirin and found none. When he took his jeans off a hook and stepped into them, his foot caught, almost toppling him over the commode. Cursing, he regained his balance and hitched up his pants, giving the zipper a short, careful tug ...

... Inside the building, he looked at the directory and found the suite number for Dr. Joseph Reynolds. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped into the elevator ...

        Joe sat in a chair across from Nate and picked up a file from the table next to him. “This is the copy of your medical record that you sent me. I understand why you didn’t want it to come directly from Bethesda." He paused. "Despite training to handle almost anything, special warfare soldiers enjoy psychiatric counseling as much as they do court-martials. Your expression tells me that you're no exception."

        Propping one leg on his knee, Nate gave the man a high score for observation. "Don't take it personally."

        Joe nodded. "Military men aren't alone with their aversion to head doctors. Most male patients dread their first appointment with me more than a prostate exam. I never look forward to those.”

        “Given a choice, Joe, I’d rather bend over and be done with all this.”

  

Eve gets a good long look at Nate

The next morning, Nate stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and heard the doorbell.

        "Damn!"

        He considered ignoring the untimely intrusion. Then he remembered a recent order from an electronics company, one that would require his signature. After tossing the towel aside, he pulled on his sweatpants, tugging the waist cord as he trotted down the steps. When he yanked open the front door, Eve was looking down at the step, ready to turn around and leave.

        First, she stared at his bare feet. Then she lifted her gaze to long legs covered in worn-out gray sweats hanging loosely on his hips. Above the waistband, dark hair covered a flat abdomen. The hair disappeared as her eyes moved upward, and she stared at the smooth skin covering a muscular torso. The trail of hair resumed a narrow path between his rib cage and spread across a powerful chest. Sporadic drops of water clung to flesh and follicles. Broad shoulders, strong arms, a smiling mouth, and a disheveled crop of wet hair completed her image of the man standing in the doorway.

       

After Wade Simmons attacks Eve, she lashes out at Nate

When he opened the door to the small waiting room, Eve and Katie sat on a brown vinyl sofa, looking down at magazines. Besides wearing scrubs, Eve appeared to be okay. Nate's heartbeat slowed for the first time since she had called.

        Then she looked up at him and his heart ripped apart. Bruises masked her delicate cheekbones. Split, puffy lips created a pout she couldn't change. One eye struggled to see through dark, swollen flesh. Marks on her neck told him that someone had tried to choke the life out of her ...

 

... Nate opened a cabinet and pulled out a skillet. Frying pan in hand, he turned as Eve walked into the kitchen. A long, loose cotton dress covered most of her body, but the daylight accentuated the bruising on her face and neck. He banked his anger for the man who deserved it.

        Barefooted, she stood at the counter next to Katie. The pain pill hadn't kicked in and her mood matched the soreness racking her body.

        He put mugs of coffee, spoons, milk, and sugar in front of them. "How's the pain?"

        "Sufferable." She added sugar to her coffee. "Why don't I remember going to bed last night?"

        "You fell asleep on the porch, so I carried you there."

        "Did you hover over me during the night?"

        "I followed the discharge instructions and put cold packs on your face and ribs, When you woke up, I gave you some meds."

        "Including the one in the little envelope?"

        "Especially the one in the little envelope. After that, you went back to sleep."

        Eve vaguely remember Nate helping her to and from the bathroom, bringing her water, and handing her pills. In her frame of mind, she rejected the idea of tenderness from any man, including him. Her tone conveyed her cynical disposition. "You missed your calling, Dunlevy. You should have gone into nursing instead of battle."

        The jab surprised Katie, but she said nothing.

        Nate kept his cool and cracked eggs into a bowl. "Soldiers have been known to serve as medics for a wounded buddy."

        Eve watched him beat the eggs with a fork. "Apparently, soldiers do anything they want. I see you've taken over my kitchen."

        Although his eyes went cold, his voice remained calm. "Had I done everything I wanted to do, Wade Simmons would not have come after you again."

        "Is that so?"

        His control slipped and his voice became loud. "I could have done something to prevent this!" The moment he said it, Nate regretted the outburst. Eve didn't need his guilt dumped on her.

        "Oh, here we go!" she shouted. "Now this is all about you." He tried to apologize but she cut him off. "Why do men assume that whatever happens to a woman, good or bad, revolves around them. The attitude must stem from those uncontrollable sex organs hanging between your legs."

        Nate raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Expressing anger was therapeutic.

        Eve walked around the counter and stood toe-to-toe with him. She poked her finger against his chest. "I'm the stupid one who dated the jerk. I'm the dumb ass who climbed into bed with the bastard. I'm the nitwit who didn't tell the police about him ...

       She reached into the egg carton and hurled one across the room. The egg smashed against a wall and pain radiated through her body.

        While they watched a yellow yoke ooze down the kitchen wall, Nate handed her another egg.

 

Nate goes 'inside' as Buck Walters to set up Wade Simmons and learn about hate crimes

The next morning a guard banged his nightstick on the bars of the cell. He had ebony skin, a shaved head, over two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and a mean face.

        The guard bellowed, “Walters!" He held a pair of cuffs connected with chain. "Come with me. Now!"

        The inmates exchanged looks as Buck reluctantly slid off his bunk. Before leaving the cell, he was told to shackle his ankles. Then the guard forced him to walk in front, shoving the stick into his lower back, prodding him to move more quickly despite the chain impeding his steps. He escorted Buck to a small cinder-block room with a steel door, no windows, and a dented metal table. No one could see or hear what happened inside the four walls. When the guard slammed the door, it locked automatically. He slapped the club against the palm of his hand. "Strip!"

        Buck lowered his eyes and began unfastening his orange prison uniform. Then he started laughing.

        "You think this is funny?"

        "Yes. You're overacting, Isaac."

        The men smiled and grasped hands. Isaac put his club on the table, reached into his pockets, and removed several items. "I hope you enjoyed your communal shower this morning. It'll have to last until we get you out of here."

        "I'll make the sacrifice. That's a scary place."

        Isaac handed him a small recorder and cut several strips of adhesive tape. Nate let the jumpsuit fall to the floor and strapped the device to the inside of his thigh just beneath his crotch. When the recorder was securely in place, he pulled up his prison suit and attached a small voice activated microphone inside the seam of his waistband ...

 

        ... Isaac picked up the club and walked to the door. "I'm real sorry about what happened to Eve O'Connor. Your brother mentioned that you have feelings for her."

        Nate slipped the bible inside his jumpsuit and shrugged. "Right now, she's avoiding me. Sucking up to Wade Simmons won't help that situation."

        "I hope this helps both of us."

        "Me too, Isaac. Before you open that door, hit me in the face. Hard."

        Isaac shook his head. "I wish you were a man like Simmons, so I could enjoy this." He made a fist and pulled back his arm. A second later, bone collided with bone. Nate should his head to clear his vision. The men clasped hands and returned to their roles as prisoner and guard.

 

Nate and his brother find trouble near Clayton, GA

While waiting for their sandwiches, they heard tires spit gravel as a pickup truck with a crew cab pulled into the parking lot. Nate and Devon watched through the window as four large men in hunting gear stepped out of the truck. One showed interest in the South Carolina van parked in front while the others took a leak at the edge of the parking lot. Then the foursome walked around the van, posturing for each other.

Devon shook his head. "Add up the IQs and they still wouldn't make the sharpest pencil in the cup."

"Is it hunting season?" Nate asked.

"Small game only."

"Who in their right mind walks into the woods when guys like that are carrying loaded guns?"

"Ask our former vice president."

Nate cracked up. "I forgot about him."

The hunters came through the door and stood at the diner's entrance.

The heaviest one asked, "You two belong to that van parked outside?"

Knowing Charleston County Department of Corrections was printed on the vehicle, Devon asked, "Why? You lookin' for your momma?"

Nate rolled his eyes.

He murmured, "Sorry, just slipped out."

The hunter persisted, "Answer the question, smart mouth. Is that your van?"

Before his brother could reply, Nate said, "No harm done. We were just leaving."

Devon whispered, "You carrying?"

"No. You?"

He shook his head. "Who'd have thought?"

Another hunter called out, "Looks like you's running from the law."

Devon laughed. "Sure, pal, that's why we're driving around in a paddy wagon."

Realizing the absurdity was lost on the group, Nate rolled his eyes again.

The first hunter looked at his friends. "I'll bet there's a big-ass reward for these bums."

Nate tossed out an explanation. "We're off duty guards from the ..."

One of the hunters pulled out a hunting knife and the other three followed his lead.

 

Refuge on Hilton Head Island

An hour later, the boat docked in a harbor on Hilton Head Island. They disembarked near a striped lighthouse that marked the entrance to a large marina filled with luxury yachts, cabin cruisers, sleek sailboats, and sport-fishing vessels. In adjacent buildings, dozens of tourists wandered through shops or dined in restaurants. Devon pointed to a sign that directed them to the trolley stop. They followed the sign, found a line of people waiting, and paired off before mixing into the crowd. After a four-mile ride, they stepped off the trolley near a cluster of red and blue wooden buildings.

        Eve scanned the small village, one that reminded her of an old New England fishing town. Pleasure boats floated in the marina, shops and restaurants occupied the two-story buildings, and a friendly outdoor bar took center stage on a large deck that overlooked the waterway. Logs burned in an outdoor fire pit and bartenders served drinks to the people gathered around on stools, many of whom appeared to be locals

        Devon spotted a wooden sign for the local inn. "That's the rental company. Blend in while I register and order me a beer."

        They placed the heavy totes and laden purses beneath a table where Eve and Katie sat down. Nate found a spot at the bar and stood, monitoring the activity around them.

        Ten minutes later, Devon returned with an envelope and took an open spot next to Nate. When Katie glanced in his direction, he winked.

        "That habit will get you into serious trouble some day, Dev."

        He grunted. "I'll pay dearly for the innocent twitch at the lieutenant."

        "Your timing sucked, but I admired your comeback."

        Devon took a long swallow of beer. "Eve began that clever diversion to break the tension ... mostly yours."

        Nate looked at him skeptically.

        He shrugged. "If you don't believe me, ask her." ...

.

... The weathered-gray house was one of many duplexes that sat on the farthest point from the island's bridge. From the rear of the house, Devon could see Daufuskie and several other barrier islands. Braddock Cove sliced through marshes to his right; the tides of the Calibogue Sound flowed swiftly in front and to his left. Nate and Eve walked up the beach bordering the Calibogue Sound. Devon stood on the back deck until Nate spotted him. Then he went inside. Soon, all four settled into the house, away from the scrutiny of the outside world and those who wanted to harm them.      

  

copyright: DAWELCH, LLC 2007-2009

 

copyright: DAWELCH, LLC 2007-2008